The sun is now hanging lower in the sky, the leaves are almost gone with the exception of the mighty Oak and the pecan trees. It is now the middle of Fall with hints of Summer that cause the afternoon temperature to climb beyond the expected, and the night chills to call for the extra blankets on the bed.
Let's walk for a while in this, one of the last nice days of Autumn. I love the crisp feel of all the colorful leaves beneath my feet.......reminds me of the last Fall in my home place that I left behind twenty-one years ago. I gathered my three grandchildren around me to help with the raking of all the fallen leaves. Their ages were three, five and seven. As we raked the leaves into a great pile in the middle of the yard, the temptation was too much. The children began to run and jump into the leaves with sounds of laughter and happy screams. Again and again we piled the leaves high as they continued the fun. They begged me to join them each time, and each time I would continue to rake leaves, make a few pictures and enjoy watching them. Finally, I found I too, could not resist. They stood back and watched as I, their grandmother ran quickly forward and pounced into that great pile of leaves.
We never did reach our goal of ridding the yard of the leaves that day. The fun of play and the ability of my grandchildren to coax me into my childhood once again was too much for me to resist. Today I treasure and enjoy that memory. The memory of the sore muscles, aching knees and general discomfort have been replaced by the happy memory of that warm, sunny Fall afternoon in November.
Before that afternoon ended, my seven-year old grandson decided we should have a game of football. He announced that we should all line up for two teams of two each and run and tackle the one with the ball. I declined that game by explaining that I was too old to be playing football. He stood back, gave me a quizzical look and exclaimed, "you are not old, you are a Nana!"
Yes! I played the game!
Come Take A Walk With Me
Monday, November 10, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
Time Travel, etc.
For the past four days I have been wandering down a path with twists and turns that have transported me from 1960 until this May, 2014. I have walked through a glass building and sat among others as we were waiting in private or separated sitting areas. I have walked along windowless glass paneled walls and looked down from my perch on the high level of the sixth floor. When I stood there long enough, I could imagine my view as that of a bird while perched from a lofty place.
When I entered this architectural marvel, my eyes followed the majestic rise of the walls to the ceilings. Enormous paintings of landscapes from the mountains to the sea adorned those giant walls. The elevators were concealed as if in a private domain and upon entering a lovely young voice announced "going up". When I pressed the button for the sixth floor, the lovely voice responded with "door closing." The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and the lovely voice announced "floor six"! The doors opened as I exited into yet another waiting area with conveniently placed private sitting areas. The signs along the long corridor guided me to my destination to see my husband who had a very long surgical procedure that day.
When I entered the Intensive Care Unit, I was, once again caught in the time travel. To this older retired registered nurse, who graduated from her nursing program in 1961, I came face to face with scientific wonders that I could not have imagined fifty-some years ago! During the next twenty-four hours I would be amazed at how teen-agers could become doctors in such a short while. When did it become permissible for nurses and doctors to wear jogging suits to work? What happened to the sturdy white nursing shoes that had been replaced by "tennis shoes". When did the nursing cap, that crowning halo, stop adorning the heads of the nurses who work tirelessly to earn the cap and the stripes?! When did doctors begin introducing themselves by their first name, even though the name tag clearly designated Dr. So & So?!
I watched as each person entered the room carrying their hand-held computers, and I observed the ease with which they approached the sophisticated equipment. One large screen that was situation above and over to the right of my husband, the patient, was equipped with detectors, bells and whistles for any slight movement made at any moment. I'm quite sure there were sensors for breathing, blood pressure, pulse, oxygen concentration and perhaps even one if my poor husband, forbid, expelled an unusual amount of gas!
I looked at those young doctors who so casually introduced themselves as friends and I remembered those before him who demanded the formal title of Dr. and intimidated you with their presence! I looked at those teen-age nurses in their scrubs and jogging shoes. Their hair worn any way they wanted it. I remembered myself as a young nurse in my white starchy uniform, white stockings, white shoes, with the little cap with the black stripes on my head. My hair was worn neatly and pulled away from my face.
Yes, I traveled back and forth between the two centuries and I found myself longing to once again be a young nurse. I wanted to have the freedom of casual dress and comfortable shoes. I dreamed of acceptance as who I was and not as the person I was expected to be. I imagined how free it must be to lose the intimidation imposed upon me as a young nurse.
I sat there and watched, and remembered, and dreamed. No, I could not imagine. The journey had taken too long. My time was behind me.
Another fifty years, another nurse, another time travel..................................................Come, Walk with me.
(Note) Written earlier, lost in my archives, discovered and decided to publish on 10/10/14)
When I entered this architectural marvel, my eyes followed the majestic rise of the walls to the ceilings. Enormous paintings of landscapes from the mountains to the sea adorned those giant walls. The elevators were concealed as if in a private domain and upon entering a lovely young voice announced "going up". When I pressed the button for the sixth floor, the lovely voice responded with "door closing." The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and the lovely voice announced "floor six"! The doors opened as I exited into yet another waiting area with conveniently placed private sitting areas. The signs along the long corridor guided me to my destination to see my husband who had a very long surgical procedure that day.
When I entered the Intensive Care Unit, I was, once again caught in the time travel. To this older retired registered nurse, who graduated from her nursing program in 1961, I came face to face with scientific wonders that I could not have imagined fifty-some years ago! During the next twenty-four hours I would be amazed at how teen-agers could become doctors in such a short while. When did it become permissible for nurses and doctors to wear jogging suits to work? What happened to the sturdy white nursing shoes that had been replaced by "tennis shoes". When did the nursing cap, that crowning halo, stop adorning the heads of the nurses who work tirelessly to earn the cap and the stripes?! When did doctors begin introducing themselves by their first name, even though the name tag clearly designated Dr. So & So?!
I watched as each person entered the room carrying their hand-held computers, and I observed the ease with which they approached the sophisticated equipment. One large screen that was situation above and over to the right of my husband, the patient, was equipped with detectors, bells and whistles for any slight movement made at any moment. I'm quite sure there were sensors for breathing, blood pressure, pulse, oxygen concentration and perhaps even one if my poor husband, forbid, expelled an unusual amount of gas!
I looked at those young doctors who so casually introduced themselves as friends and I remembered those before him who demanded the formal title of Dr. and intimidated you with their presence! I looked at those teen-age nurses in their scrubs and jogging shoes. Their hair worn any way they wanted it. I remembered myself as a young nurse in my white starchy uniform, white stockings, white shoes, with the little cap with the black stripes on my head. My hair was worn neatly and pulled away from my face.
Yes, I traveled back and forth between the two centuries and I found myself longing to once again be a young nurse. I wanted to have the freedom of casual dress and comfortable shoes. I dreamed of acceptance as who I was and not as the person I was expected to be. I imagined how free it must be to lose the intimidation imposed upon me as a young nurse.
I sat there and watched, and remembered, and dreamed. No, I could not imagine. The journey had taken too long. My time was behind me.
Another fifty years, another nurse, another time travel..................................................Come, Walk with me.
(Note) Written earlier, lost in my archives, discovered and decided to publish on 10/10/14)
A Mirror Image
Good to see you on my walk today! I know I have been away for a while. Seems I veered off the path and journeyed to a land full of white coats. Not for me, but for my husband who continues his journey of recovery that is now beginning the fifth year. You can read the entire story from my book, "Now We Have Hope", amazon.com, or you can follow my other blog, leekanipe.BlogSpot.com.
You know how you have been told that eventually we all begin to look like one of our parents? This is true! I doubted it for years, wondering how in the world I could look like my Mother, knowing that I looked more like my Father, or so I thought! I guess I needed another person to confirm my suspicion that maybe I had been wrong.
I happened to be asked to join a group of fellow classmates from long ago to plan a reunion for all graduates of our particular school. During one of those meetings, one of the committee members, a male upperclassman made the comment as we greeted each other. We had not seen each other in thirty years or so, and along with attending the same schools, we also grew up in the same small community. He was still quite handsome, and you can imagine my surprise when he exclaimed very loudly (so that all could hear), "Why, you look just like your Mother"!
Later, as I was driving home, I pondered his salutation, and decided that he must be getting a little dementia and probably had mistaken me for my older sister, who indeed does look like my Mother. I did see myself a little differently when I looked in the mirror that evening. As my Mother peered back at me, I dismissed it and decided I was tired and would look more like myself in the morning. As the weeks passed, I became more and more aware of my traits, passed genetically to me. I have her physique, her straight back, good posture, slender body, and her hands and her feet. Every time I prepare a meal, I see her in my kitchen, working along side as her hands stir the bowl, or pour the ingredients.
I am reminded of one of our last evenings dining out. She loved to go to the BBQ Barn in our neighborhood. Most of all, she enjoyed listening to the blue-grass music band after dinner. On that evening, as she was approaching eighty plus years old, she was feeling very well. Other than Alzhiemer's, she was in good physical condition. As we were relaxing at our table, watching the dancers and listening to the music, my Mother was approached by a gentleman who invited her to dance with him. Before I could tell her NO, she bounced from her chair and accepted his offer. I watched as she swayed to the rhythm of the slow music, and as she looked into his face and smiled from time to time. In that short period of time, I saw my Mother as a young girl who was enjoying the flirtation from this stranger.
After the dance, he escorted her to our table and thanked her for the dance. She smiled and told him she enjoyed it. A few minutes passed and the band began playing a fast tune. The gentleman returned and once again, Mom was up and going. I was amazed at her agility, even though I knew my older sister would kill me when we got home. Sure enough, when I shared our story, she declared no more nights out with the band because mom might fall and break her hip! Mom and I giggled together when we listened to her worry. After all, we had a wonderful evening together!
Glad I look like my Mom!
Enjoyed the walk! See you next time.....................Brenda
You know how you have been told that eventually we all begin to look like one of our parents? This is true! I doubted it for years, wondering how in the world I could look like my Mother, knowing that I looked more like my Father, or so I thought! I guess I needed another person to confirm my suspicion that maybe I had been wrong.
I happened to be asked to join a group of fellow classmates from long ago to plan a reunion for all graduates of our particular school. During one of those meetings, one of the committee members, a male upperclassman made the comment as we greeted each other. We had not seen each other in thirty years or so, and along with attending the same schools, we also grew up in the same small community. He was still quite handsome, and you can imagine my surprise when he exclaimed very loudly (so that all could hear), "Why, you look just like your Mother"!
Later, as I was driving home, I pondered his salutation, and decided that he must be getting a little dementia and probably had mistaken me for my older sister, who indeed does look like my Mother. I did see myself a little differently when I looked in the mirror that evening. As my Mother peered back at me, I dismissed it and decided I was tired and would look more like myself in the morning. As the weeks passed, I became more and more aware of my traits, passed genetically to me. I have her physique, her straight back, good posture, slender body, and her hands and her feet. Every time I prepare a meal, I see her in my kitchen, working along side as her hands stir the bowl, or pour the ingredients.
I am reminded of one of our last evenings dining out. She loved to go to the BBQ Barn in our neighborhood. Most of all, she enjoyed listening to the blue-grass music band after dinner. On that evening, as she was approaching eighty plus years old, she was feeling very well. Other than Alzhiemer's, she was in good physical condition. As we were relaxing at our table, watching the dancers and listening to the music, my Mother was approached by a gentleman who invited her to dance with him. Before I could tell her NO, she bounced from her chair and accepted his offer. I watched as she swayed to the rhythm of the slow music, and as she looked into his face and smiled from time to time. In that short period of time, I saw my Mother as a young girl who was enjoying the flirtation from this stranger.
After the dance, he escorted her to our table and thanked her for the dance. She smiled and told him she enjoyed it. A few minutes passed and the band began playing a fast tune. The gentleman returned and once again, Mom was up and going. I was amazed at her agility, even though I knew my older sister would kill me when we got home. Sure enough, when I shared our story, she declared no more nights out with the band because mom might fall and break her hip! Mom and I giggled together when we listened to her worry. After all, we had a wonderful evening together!
Glad I look like my Mom!
Enjoyed the walk! See you next time.....................Brenda
Thursday, April 17, 2014
The Great Gravitional Pull-down
Today's walk should be interesting. It involves something I know nothing about and something I know everything about. Maybe you will be able to shed some light on this complex and subjective subject of mine as we walk along together. I must warn you that prior to this blog, I did a little research. I turned to Google for research on Sir Isaac Newton and his law, but found it did not really apply to my subject (in other words, over my head) , so I scrolled a bit further and found the same, for "Dummies". Aha! that would be me!
To quote: " Gravitational Force and Distance: When you are standing on Earth with your toes buried in the dirt, it may seem like the distance between you and Earth is zero. But, the distance is measured between the centers of the two objects not the edges. So the distance between you and Earth is the distance from the center of the earth to your belly button. As the distance between two objects gets larger, the gravitational force between them gets smaller."
That makes perfect sense! My gravitational force between my face and belly button has decreased, thus the HUGE gravitational pull on the skin of my face and my neck! This decrease has occurred due to the fact that I have already lost an inch in height due to the vertebral column collapse. (yes, that happens too!) Following the same law, the space between my belly button and my breasts have decreased, thus the gravitational pull of my breast toward my belly button. The same is happening at warp speed to the remainder of my body below the belly button. At the rate this is going, my estimate is that I will be under the earth approximately twenty years earlier than my earlier prediction!
Since the law states that as the distance between two objects gets larger, the gravitational force between them gets smaller, I now understand why fat people do not have as many wrinkles! Should I try to gain fifty pounds or so to reduce that gravitational pull-down?
So................to all of you young things out there, I can only say, " Don't fight it! You cannot win! You may pay the plastic surgeon to remove the excess skin as it slides off its original landmark, and you may look younger for a few years, but you have to remember, this is an on-going process. The universal law is there! Sooner or later, the skin once again shows signs of sagging, the plastic surgeon fills his coffers with your money and believe me, this person is the only one winning! He or she is now rich and you are poorer, but endowed with the artificial beauty that will eventually look weird as you continue to pursue your youth! Then again, you could eat all the bad things you want, gain enough weight to slow the sagging, and still keep your money!
Oh, the pondering of it all, see you on our next walk..................................................
Brenda
To quote: " Gravitational Force and Distance: When you are standing on Earth with your toes buried in the dirt, it may seem like the distance between you and Earth is zero. But, the distance is measured between the centers of the two objects not the edges. So the distance between you and Earth is the distance from the center of the earth to your belly button. As the distance between two objects gets larger, the gravitational force between them gets smaller."
That makes perfect sense! My gravitational force between my face and belly button has decreased, thus the HUGE gravitational pull on the skin of my face and my neck! This decrease has occurred due to the fact that I have already lost an inch in height due to the vertebral column collapse. (yes, that happens too!) Following the same law, the space between my belly button and my breasts have decreased, thus the gravitational pull of my breast toward my belly button. The same is happening at warp speed to the remainder of my body below the belly button. At the rate this is going, my estimate is that I will be under the earth approximately twenty years earlier than my earlier prediction!
Since the law states that as the distance between two objects gets larger, the gravitational force between them gets smaller, I now understand why fat people do not have as many wrinkles! Should I try to gain fifty pounds or so to reduce that gravitational pull-down?
So................to all of you young things out there, I can only say, " Don't fight it! You cannot win! You may pay the plastic surgeon to remove the excess skin as it slides off its original landmark, and you may look younger for a few years, but you have to remember, this is an on-going process. The universal law is there! Sooner or later, the skin once again shows signs of sagging, the plastic surgeon fills his coffers with your money and believe me, this person is the only one winning! He or she is now rich and you are poorer, but endowed with the artificial beauty that will eventually look weird as you continue to pursue your youth! Then again, you could eat all the bad things you want, gain enough weight to slow the sagging, and still keep your money!
Oh, the pondering of it all, see you on our next walk..................................................
Brenda
Sunday, April 13, 2014
To Shave or Not To Shave, that is the question............
There was a time in my life when I could plan at least an entire afternoon or early evening for my personal care. Most of this time involved the arduous task of shaving. During my reproductive years it seems that I could grow hair on my head, underarms and legs in an overnight. My budget for hair removal items seemed to be right up there with my grocery list. Tacked onto the end of the list was always either (way back when) razor blades or the new disposable razors. From time to time, I would experiment and try "Nair" or any of those depilatory creams, which by the way , if directions were not followed to the T, would leave a red rash for days. These beautification episodes usually began after good tub soaking to soften the skin prior to ridding my body of that thick cultivation of hair. The shaving process always guaranteed a cut that brought enough bleeding to warrant a band aid or two the remainder of the day or night. In the absence of band aids, a small piece of toilet paper would suffice temporarily. About eight to twelve hours later all those razor burns would be followed by a scattering red rash, which, of course, made the wearing of deodorant something to look excruciatingly forward to, if you were a masochist!
Which brings me to some of the advantages of AGING! I have, to date, not had to shave, or remove any hair from my body for the past two to four months! Why, you ask? Because there is no hair there! In addition to that, the hair on my head has been losing strands at the rate of a dozen or so a day for the past five years. At that rate, I am hoping to still have a decent strand or two when I hit 100. I have tried to be optimistic about this disappearance of hair, but that does not help a lot since I have already given up those personal appearances on the beach or any Summer outing that requires shorts or bathing suits. I guess the good news is that with all that shaving behind, I now have more time to pluck those hairs that have begun to appear in the strangest places. The eyebrows have gone crazy! Not a single hair wants to grow in the same direction. Not only that, I have removed all the gray ones and now that there are only three or four left in each brow, I am beginning to look weird! Whoopi Goldberg just removed all hers, and it looks good on her. I have been tempted.............No, not yet. I am still trying to make my own with the pencil, but that is beginning to look weird too. And then, what is that on my chin from time to time? Yep, there it is, another little white whisker.
I spent some time with an old friend recently, one whom I had not seen in a couple of years. As we were talking, I was distracted by those little white whiskers that were jutting out from her chin. My mind kept wandering from our conversation because I could not wait to get home, find my magnifying glass and check my chinny, chin, chin.
I have had to accept the fact that my hair follicles are dying, have died or are growing awkwardly as they are trying to survive. I find myself daily facing the same dilemma: Do I let them grow at will and become the female Andy Rhooney, recognized post-humously from 60 minutes, or do I rebel and continue plucking?!
Oh well, much to do after our walk today. Time to paint the toenails and get ready for sandals! Red, or pink? That is the question.
Now, if I can just bend over to do it myself..........................................
Brenda
Which brings me to some of the advantages of AGING! I have, to date, not had to shave, or remove any hair from my body for the past two to four months! Why, you ask? Because there is no hair there! In addition to that, the hair on my head has been losing strands at the rate of a dozen or so a day for the past five years. At that rate, I am hoping to still have a decent strand or two when I hit 100. I have tried to be optimistic about this disappearance of hair, but that does not help a lot since I have already given up those personal appearances on the beach or any Summer outing that requires shorts or bathing suits. I guess the good news is that with all that shaving behind, I now have more time to pluck those hairs that have begun to appear in the strangest places. The eyebrows have gone crazy! Not a single hair wants to grow in the same direction. Not only that, I have removed all the gray ones and now that there are only three or four left in each brow, I am beginning to look weird! Whoopi Goldberg just removed all hers, and it looks good on her. I have been tempted.............No, not yet. I am still trying to make my own with the pencil, but that is beginning to look weird too. And then, what is that on my chin from time to time? Yep, there it is, another little white whisker.
I spent some time with an old friend recently, one whom I had not seen in a couple of years. As we were talking, I was distracted by those little white whiskers that were jutting out from her chin. My mind kept wandering from our conversation because I could not wait to get home, find my magnifying glass and check my chinny, chin, chin.
I have had to accept the fact that my hair follicles are dying, have died or are growing awkwardly as they are trying to survive. I find myself daily facing the same dilemma: Do I let them grow at will and become the female Andy Rhooney, recognized post-humously from 60 minutes, or do I rebel and continue plucking?!
Oh well, much to do after our walk today. Time to paint the toenails and get ready for sandals! Red, or pink? That is the question.
Now, if I can just bend over to do it myself..........................................
Brenda
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Recurring, Offensive Salutation
Come! Take another walk with me today! Even though the path today is filled with bright sunshine, there is a subject that causes me distress, and I must address it as we walk.
Today I visited the dermatologist, for a check-up and refills on two facial medications. It was a good visit with a good report from the doctor, even one where he commented that I had done a very good job of keeping pre-cancerous lesions at bay. He congratulated me on the use of daily sunscreen over the years, and he added that aging had been kind to my skin. As you might imagine, I approached the young clerk at the check-out feeling mighty fine with that compliment from my doctor. I glanced in the mirror in that area and for a brief moment experienced an exceptional feeling of recaptured youth!
Unfortunately, this was quickly dispelled as soon as the young clerk addressed me as, "Sweetie". At that moment I could feel all my muscles tightening as I desperately held back the urge to correct her as to my NAME! Just as I was taking a deep breath to prevent my saying something I would regret, she did it again! Thank-you "Sweetie"!.
How condescending is that!? Sweetie! In that brief encounter I became insignificant as a person! A person without a name! Invisible, unworthy, ignorant, uneducated, and she cared only for the procedure she was attending to. I had become inorganic, nothing more than a fixture in her small area. Most of all, I had been reminded that I was old!
What happened to me today has allowed me to recall a similar situation that occurred many years ago during my first year of teaching at the community college. I had been hired as an instructor for a vocational, surgical technology program. It was a one-year diploma program, and the students spent the first six- months in the classroom and the last six-months in an intern program in the operating room. It was during the hospital rotation when I was approached by one of the surgeons who asked to speak to the instructor for those surgical techs at his operating room.
After inviting me to join him in the lounge, he expressed concern that one of my students had been addressing his elderly patients as "Sweetie". He asked me to please make all my students aware that all patients should be addressed by their proper name and never by a pet name selected by the caregiver. He pointed out that it was a cruel and condescending manner of address to any patient, particularly to the elderly who were already experiencing abundant losses as they aged. He went on to add that the least we could do was show respect by allowing them the dignity of being recognized by their given name.
How grateful I have been over the years for this kind and caring surgeon. Because of him, I was able to share with all my students over the course of twenty-years the importance of respect for all patients, especially the elderly and the infirmed. We would see them as a person of importance and remember that they had once held an important position in life, and had made enormous contributions to the society we enjoyed today. I implemented this simple method of greeting as part of our curriculum and one that became an accepted fixture on each syllabus, Students learned how the use of a simple proper name could restore the infirmed, sick and elderly to their former life status, no matter how brief the encounter.
I would like to believe that those graduates during my tenure will remember that story. I can only hope that if I have occasion to meet them on the other side of that operating room table they will respectfully acknowledge my proper name!
And so it is, that I have decided I will not accept those pet names of "Sweetie", "Honey", "Baby-Doll" any longer. I will regain my self-respect and teach others along the way. I will remember the James Bond clarification," Bond, James Bond." I will say," Kanipe, Brenda Kanipe!"
Enjoyed the walk, see you next time.................................................................
Brenda
Today I visited the dermatologist, for a check-up and refills on two facial medications. It was a good visit with a good report from the doctor, even one where he commented that I had done a very good job of keeping pre-cancerous lesions at bay. He congratulated me on the use of daily sunscreen over the years, and he added that aging had been kind to my skin. As you might imagine, I approached the young clerk at the check-out feeling mighty fine with that compliment from my doctor. I glanced in the mirror in that area and for a brief moment experienced an exceptional feeling of recaptured youth!
Unfortunately, this was quickly dispelled as soon as the young clerk addressed me as, "Sweetie". At that moment I could feel all my muscles tightening as I desperately held back the urge to correct her as to my NAME! Just as I was taking a deep breath to prevent my saying something I would regret, she did it again! Thank-you "Sweetie"!.
How condescending is that!? Sweetie! In that brief encounter I became insignificant as a person! A person without a name! Invisible, unworthy, ignorant, uneducated, and she cared only for the procedure she was attending to. I had become inorganic, nothing more than a fixture in her small area. Most of all, I had been reminded that I was old!
What happened to me today has allowed me to recall a similar situation that occurred many years ago during my first year of teaching at the community college. I had been hired as an instructor for a vocational, surgical technology program. It was a one-year diploma program, and the students spent the first six- months in the classroom and the last six-months in an intern program in the operating room. It was during the hospital rotation when I was approached by one of the surgeons who asked to speak to the instructor for those surgical techs at his operating room.
After inviting me to join him in the lounge, he expressed concern that one of my students had been addressing his elderly patients as "Sweetie". He asked me to please make all my students aware that all patients should be addressed by their proper name and never by a pet name selected by the caregiver. He pointed out that it was a cruel and condescending manner of address to any patient, particularly to the elderly who were already experiencing abundant losses as they aged. He went on to add that the least we could do was show respect by allowing them the dignity of being recognized by their given name.
How grateful I have been over the years for this kind and caring surgeon. Because of him, I was able to share with all my students over the course of twenty-years the importance of respect for all patients, especially the elderly and the infirmed. We would see them as a person of importance and remember that they had once held an important position in life, and had made enormous contributions to the society we enjoyed today. I implemented this simple method of greeting as part of our curriculum and one that became an accepted fixture on each syllabus, Students learned how the use of a simple proper name could restore the infirmed, sick and elderly to their former life status, no matter how brief the encounter.
I would like to believe that those graduates during my tenure will remember that story. I can only hope that if I have occasion to meet them on the other side of that operating room table they will respectfully acknowledge my proper name!
And so it is, that I have decided I will not accept those pet names of "Sweetie", "Honey", "Baby-Doll" any longer. I will regain my self-respect and teach others along the way. I will remember the James Bond clarification," Bond, James Bond." I will say," Kanipe, Brenda Kanipe!"
Enjoyed the walk, see you next time.................................................................
Brenda
Monday, April 7, 2014
Welcome!
Why did I decide to write another blog? Well, the other blog is mostly about Lee, and there are times when I want to write about many things that did not pertain to his experiences, so I will write this little blog and see where it goes. Here are some of the issues I will probably address (unless I change my mind):
* What it's like to be addressed as" Madam, not Miss" and when did that begin?
* Why do those young clerks in retail and grocery call me" Sweetie" and" Honey?"
* The" Great Gravitational pull-down" (No, it is not scientific!)
* The "At your Age" Theory, ( remember, it is a theory!)
* I saw my Mother's reflection in the display window at the Mall!
* Yes, those bladder commercials are real!
* What is with those Cialis commercials and the double claw-foot bath tubs?
These are just a few of the things I have on my mind from time to time. As you have now guessed, I am in that glorious age, sometimes called the "golden years". So far, the gold in this age is elusive and have only found mine perched as a crown on a molar in the back of my mouth! Golden Years? These are Reality Years!
Let's begin by taking that first walk down my memory lane. There are many lanes for our walks and the one I have selected today goes back a decade or two. Guess we just have to take those memories as they resurface! Good to have you here, walking alongside and listening as we stroll.
So, let's begin with the first topic that is a real gem and a pet peeve of mine. I cannot remember the first time it happened, but I will say I was caught off guard and quite by surprise. I believe it actually happened when I was still a young fifty-something. I remember it with clarity, as most traumatic events are remembered! I had just finished my grocery shopping, finally had all those groceries bagged in the cart, and was busy exiting the store. Suddenly, behind me, I heard a young man calling, "Madam, "Madam," you forgot one of you bags. I continued on, knowing that could not be me.............after all, if it was for me, he would be calling "Miss". He finally caught up with me in the parking lot, once again, addressing me as "Madam". I thanked him for the forgotten bag, put it in the trunk along with the other groceries, climbed into the driver's seat of my car, and proceeded to cry! It was, to me, the end of an era. It was absolute. From that precise moment, I ceased to be a Miss to each and every clerk I encountered from that day forward!
So now you know, once your title of Miss has been replaced with Madam, It immediately goes into the airways of tomorrow, never again to return.......................................
Hope you enjoyed your walk along with me today. See you, next time, Brenda
.............................
* What it's like to be addressed as" Madam, not Miss" and when did that begin?
* Why do those young clerks in retail and grocery call me" Sweetie" and" Honey?"
* The" Great Gravitational pull-down" (No, it is not scientific!)
* The "At your Age" Theory, ( remember, it is a theory!)
* I saw my Mother's reflection in the display window at the Mall!
* Yes, those bladder commercials are real!
* What is with those Cialis commercials and the double claw-foot bath tubs?
These are just a few of the things I have on my mind from time to time. As you have now guessed, I am in that glorious age, sometimes called the "golden years". So far, the gold in this age is elusive and have only found mine perched as a crown on a molar in the back of my mouth! Golden Years? These are Reality Years!
Let's begin by taking that first walk down my memory lane. There are many lanes for our walks and the one I have selected today goes back a decade or two. Guess we just have to take those memories as they resurface! Good to have you here, walking alongside and listening as we stroll.
So, let's begin with the first topic that is a real gem and a pet peeve of mine. I cannot remember the first time it happened, but I will say I was caught off guard and quite by surprise. I believe it actually happened when I was still a young fifty-something. I remember it with clarity, as most traumatic events are remembered! I had just finished my grocery shopping, finally had all those groceries bagged in the cart, and was busy exiting the store. Suddenly, behind me, I heard a young man calling, "Madam, "Madam," you forgot one of you bags. I continued on, knowing that could not be me.............after all, if it was for me, he would be calling "Miss". He finally caught up with me in the parking lot, once again, addressing me as "Madam". I thanked him for the forgotten bag, put it in the trunk along with the other groceries, climbed into the driver's seat of my car, and proceeded to cry! It was, to me, the end of an era. It was absolute. From that precise moment, I ceased to be a Miss to each and every clerk I encountered from that day forward!
So now you know, once your title of Miss has been replaced with Madam, It immediately goes into the airways of tomorrow, never again to return.......................................
Hope you enjoyed your walk along with me today. See you, next time, Brenda
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